


true of heart and best foot forward

by somehowunbroken



Category: DCU
Genre: Challenge: mpregbigbang, Consensual sex under the influence, M/M, Mpreg, Serious Discussions, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While setting up surveillance in Poison Ivy's newest hideout, Tim and Dick accidentally come into contact with a mysterious substance. Ivy-induced sexual situations aren't exactly new to them, but when Dick's blood tests and the lab experiments on the substance show some weird results, Dick and Tim find out that this wasn't the kind of encounter that they're used to, and neither of them is quite sure how to handle the fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	true of heart and best foot forward

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for [mpregbigbang round one on LJ](http://mpregbigbang.livejournal.com/). I had a great time with this challenge, and I hope you enjoy the results!
> 
> I worked with [sunryder](http://sunryder.livejournal.com/), and the [art that she drew is amazing](http://sunryder.livejournal.com/18718.html)! Make sure you check out the link to see it in all its glory.
> 
> Thanks to shinysylver for encouraging me to sign up, enabling me throughout, and then betaing the beast at the end; to ariadne83 for handholding; and to camshaft22 for more beta work. This story wouldn't be what it is without you ladies. Any mistakes remaining at this point are entirely my own, and are likely due to me tinkering after the fact.
> 
> ETA: this fic used to be known as "here, hold my breath." Title changed in April 2017, in case anyone was curious.

They’ve been staking out Poison Ivy’s newest den for about a week when they finally catch a break.

“She’ll be gone for a few hours,” Tim says over the radio, scanning the den again. “I’m not sure who she’s meeting, but her side of the call indicated that she’s heading down to Tricorner. We should have time to get in, hide some bugs, take some photos, and get out without being noticed.”

“Sure thing,” Dick replies, and Tim doesn’t have to look at him to know that Dick is itching for something to do. It’s not that he’s bad at stakeouts, but… well, okay, that’s exactly what it is. Dick can do stakeouts if he has to, but he hates being forced into so much stillness. “We’ll give her ten more minutes, just so we’re sure that she’s not going to turn around to grab something that she forgot, and then we’ll go in.”

“Copy,” Tim says, tucking his binoculars into one of the pouches on his bandoliers. He flexes his shoulders before starting to tense and relax his muscles, warming himself up after hours of watching the den without moving too much. Years of experience lets him know that Dick is going through his own pre-busting-in ritual, which consists of a lot more movement than Tim’s own. Tim half-smiles, thinking of the way Dick tends to flip up onto his hands right before readying himself to leap off of the roof into whatever might be below. Dick is three rooftops away, too far for Tim to see clearly, but he has no doubt that that’s what Dick is doing.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Dick says with three minutes to go.

There’s no note of strain in his voice to give away his exercise regime, but Tim rolls his eyes anyway. “I’m thinking about how ridiculous you look when you’re doing handstand pushups in your suit.”

“Hey!” Dick protests. There’s a quiet whispering noise to indicate Dick flipping right-side-up. “You’ve never complained before.”

“There’s only so much complaining I’m going to be doing while you’re wearing a suit that skintight,” Tim shoots back. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the view, Dick, but as impressive as your upper body strength and sense of balance are, the pushups make you… flop.”

“I don’t flop,” Dick says, as indignantly as he can manage without raising his voice. “I’m as steady when I do those as-”

“I didn’t mean your arms,” Tim says serenely, smiling as Dick swallows a cough before snorting.

“You play dirty and I love it,” Dick says, sounding every bit like he means it. “I’m totally going to do handstand pushups ‘to burn off stress’ while we’re reporting to Batman later, now that I know you’re checking me out.”

“I’m always checking you out,” Tim says, focusing on the scene below again. “Fifteen seconds. Are you ready?”

“Set,” Dick says, instantly serious. “On your mark.”

“Rebreather in,” Tim says. It’s not that he thinks Dick has forgotten; it’s just that it never hurts to have a reminder. “In five. Four, three, two…”

Tim shoots his grapple on _one_ , hearing Dick do the same. They swing down together, retrieving their equipment and heading for the entrance of the den. Tim fits his rebreather over his mouth and turns to Dick, who already has his in place. Dick nods, so Tim turns back to the entrance and steps inside.

There are a lot of rules that they live by; some are everyday things, like _make sure your grapple is securely lodged before you jump off of a building_ , and then there are the more specific ones, like the set for when you’re dealing with the Joker (which pretty much boils down to _backup, backup, backup_ ). The general rules for dealing with Poison Ivy are to use the rebreather at all times, and to come into contact with as little plant life in her vicinity as you possibly can.

Tim picks his way through the corridor, keeping to the middle and dodging around the vines that curl out of the walls towards him. Dick slips easily behind him, and after about ten minutes of walking, they find what they’re looking for when the corridor opens into a room that’s clearly being used as an office.

“You’re on pictures,” Tim says. Dick nods, pulling a camera from one of the pockets in his boot and turning to begin his task. Tim retrieves the bugs he’d made and narrows his eyes, judging the best places to install them.

They work quickly and efficiently; in less than twenty minutes, Dick is bracing Tim as he stands on the desk to install the last bug in the ceiling. The bugs transmit everything to a computer that’s kept offsite in a satellite Cave that Tim rarely uses. It isn’t hooked into the main system, so even if Ivy finds the bugs and figures out where they’re sending their signals, she won’t find the real Cave. The computer will save everything automatically, and Tim will visit every three days to download the data and bring it elsewhere to analyze. Tim knows that he’s probably being more paranoid than the situation calls for, but then again, he’s learned the value of paranoia in his work.

“Done,” he says to Dick. “Let me just make sure everything is working like it should.”

“Take as long as you need,” Dick replies, squeezing Tim’s legs in more of a hug than anything resembling actual support. “I choose to view this as free cuddle time.”

Tim snorts and activates a sensor in his mask’s lenses, looking around the room at each bug’s location. He toggles the lenses again, getting a readout from the computer they’re connected to, which is showing that it’s active and recording. Tim nods to himself and switches his lenses back to normal before looking down at Dick.

“We’re good to go,” he says, but before Dick can swing him from the desk there’s a sudden clattering sound from right behind them. Dick jerks, letting go of Tim to spin around, and Tim wobbles, reeling for balance.

Dick takes a step towards whatever was making the sound and Tim pitches backwards, crashing into Dick, which sends them sprawling across the floor, several jars from the table skittering after them. Tim freezes as he hears the tinkling sound of broken glass, then rolls off of Dick and reaches frantically for the wipes he keeps in his belt.

“Are you hurt?” Dick asks, rolling over and looking at Tim. “I have goop on me and probably an imprint of your hip in my ass, but I’m okay.”

“I’m okay,” Tim says, scrubbing at the substance on his gauntlet. “I’m not thrilled about having touched anything that Ivy has touched, and I have no idea how to make it look like we weren’t snooping around in here, but I’m fine.” He tucks the wipe into an empty pocket and grabs a new one. “Did you see what made that noise?”

Dick lets out a breath. “I didn’t see anything, but I didn’t have long to look,” he says.

“Sorry,” Tim replies, glancing up. Dick is frowning down at the substance that’s coating his suit from his right hip to his shoulder. “How did you get so much of that on you?

He abandons his gauntlets in favor of trying to scrub the substance off of Dick, who frowns even harder. “Uh.”

Tim pulls back to evaluate Dick more fully. He keeps his voice as neutral as possible. “Nightwing. Status.”

Dick’s face is faintly pink, as if he’s slightly overworked, or slightly ill. “Something’s off. I think it’s in my system somehow.”

Tim nods sharply. “Should I call for backup?”

“No,” Dick says slowly. “I can… let’s go.” He climbs to his feet and takes a step towards the exit. Tim follows, slipping an arm around Dick’s waist for support. Dick leans into him, making a noise that’s half-sigh, half-hum.

By the time they make it back to the entrance, Dick’s face is more flushed than it had been inside, and Tim is starting to feel a bit warm himself. He stops just before they step outside. “Hang on, Nightwing. I’m going to let Batman know what went on here, and then I’m going to figure out the nearest safe place we can head to.”

Dick nods, slumping further into Tim. Tim taps at his radio, switching frequencies. “Red Robin to Batman.”

“Batman,” Bruce says instantly. “Status?”

“Compromised,” Tim says, gritting his teeth as Dick leans down to press his face into Tim’s shoulder. Dick is an incredibly physical person, and never more so than when he’s sick; Tim feels bad that the gesture makes him think more of waking up in the mornings with Dick than-

Oh.

“I don’t think we’re poisoned,” Tim says after a moment. “I think it’s – the other kind of Ivy thing.”

“Acknowledged,” Bruce says, and if Tim didn’t know what to listen for, he wouldn’t hear the amusement in the word at all. “Are you clear of the den?”

“We’ll be able to get out, but she’s going to know we were here,” Tim says. He closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath as Dick presses his nose against the edge of Tim’s jaw, tilting his head up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his pulse point. “Going. Going to have to keep an eye on her, see where she moves.”

“Acknowledged,” Bruce repeats, and this time, the amusement is plain to hear. “Report back when you’re feeling like yourself again.”

“Red Robin out,” Tim manages, switching his radio off before grabbing Dick and yanking him away by force. Dick blinks at him, confused. “Not here, Nightwing. We need to get out of here.”

Dick shakes his head roughly and squints at the building just across the street. “Where?”

“Five blocks north, two east,” Tim says. “Condo, roof access.”

Dick squints harder. “Three north, one west,” he replies. “Apartment. Access from the street.”

“I’m sold,” Tim says, wrapping his arm around Dick’s waist and scanning the exit with the sensors in his lenses. “We need to make it there.”

“Three blocks north, one west,” Dick repeats, draping his arm over Tim’s shoulders and walking for the exit. “Three blocks north, one west.”

Tim tries to focus on what Dick is saying, but while it might be helping Dick concentrate, Tim’s mind keeps wandering. Dick’s voice is low and husky, and he’s pressed along the length of Tim’s body. Tim is already too warm, and everywhere that he and Dick are touching _arm thigh waist shoulder_ is burning right through his armor. He stumbles on his next step and Dick’s arm tightens around his shoulders, keeping Tim from falling to the ground.

“How far?” Tim asks, trying to take a deep breath. He’s panting, and he feels less in charge of his thoughts with each inhale. If he can slow his breathing down, he thinks dizzily, maybe this will be easier.

“Half a block north, one block west,” Dick says. “Almost there.”

Tim desperately wants to rest his head on Dick’s shoulder for a moment, to brush his lips against the corner of Dick’s mouth, to - _no_ , he tells himself firmly. He closes his eyes and takes another breath before nodding. “Almost there. Let’s go.”

By the time Dick pulls Tim into an alley and lets go to fumble with the retinal scanner hidden in the brick wall, Tim is more than ready to get inside. The wall parts a moment later and Tim stumbles in, already shoving his cowl back and pulling at his gauntlets as Dick shuts the wall behind them. The lights come on automatically as the wall finishes closing, and Tim drops his gauntlets to the ground just in time to turn and get his hands on Dick’s chest as Dick leans in to kiss him, his arms sliding up Tim’s back.

“Longest walk of my life,” Dick groans against Tim’s lips when they finally part. “God, Tim. Let’s go upstairs. Upstairs is awesome. It has all the amenities: a bed, supplies…”

“Even better, it’s not your garage,” Tim adds, snorting. It’s honestly really strange, the way the fire is so much less intense now that they’re alone. Now that they’ve kissed, Tim notes distantly, wondering if it’s relevant. Speaking of… “Samples. We need blood samples.”

Dick waits patiently as Tim pulls a kit from his belt, taking a small sample from Dick and another from himself. He tucks both vials back into his belt before nodding at Dick. “We’re good.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Dick says again, sliding his hands down Tim’s arms until they’re holding hands. “I really, really want to make love to you.”

Tim can feel himself blushing from the tips of his ears on down, just as he does every time Dick says something like that. He smiles up at Dick and leans in to kiss him, squeezing Dick’s hands in his own. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dick breathes, pulling back and tugging Tim with him.

This isn’t a safe house that Tim has visited before, and he takes in idle details as he and Dick walk upstairs. It’s well furnished, much more so than their safe places normally are, which means that it’s either used more often than the others, or is a place that was set up for specific cover purposes. Tim isn’t sure which until they get to the bedroom and he stops in his tracks.

There are photos in the room. Not stock things, or random photos of Dick in his public persona, no; most of them are of Dick and Tim together, doing what’s normal for them – training, researching, falling asleep tangled together on the sofa in the living room of the Manor…

“Dick,” Tim says slowly. “What is this place?”

“Mine,” Dick says simply. “Sometimes I need to get out of the Manor and be myself. I can’t go to the apartment uptown for that – too many people know that Dick Grayson lives up there, and I don’t always want to be him.” He shrugs, but Tim nods. He knows how precarious that balance can feel at times, and Dick has never been as good at sliding from one persona to another as Tim is.

He doesn’t know how to express that, so Tim just leans up to kiss Dick, wrapping his arms around Dick’s shoulders and holding him tightly. Dick kisses back immediately, cupping Tim’s hips in his hands and squeezing lightly. Tim’s eyes slip shut as he loses himself in it, pushing his fingers into Dick’s hair and scratching lightly at his scalp as Dick rubs his thumbs against Tim’s hips. Dick hums into Tim’s mouth and Tim pulls back, feeling the smile spread slowly across his face. “So what’s the plan?”

“You and your plans,” Dick laughs. “The plan is total spontaneity, how’s that sound?”

“Like a terrible plan, but a good idea,” Tim decides. “I’ll let it slide for tonight.”

“So generous,” Dick teases, smiling as he leans back in to kiss Tim’s nose. “Here’s a plan for you: first one naked gets to call what we’re doing.”

“You’re on,” Tim says, grabbing for the release on his bandoliers and letting them fall to the ground. It’s a pretty even race; Tim has more pieces to get out of, but Dick’s suit is like a second skin, so it takes a lot more effort to strip out of it. They both pull pieces of their uniforms off and let them drop where they land, moving as fast as they can. Tim looks up as he steps out of his boxers, grinning when he sees Dick standing with his hands on his hips, already completely bare.

“I win,” Dick says. “Only barely, but I win.”

“Fair and square,” Tim agrees. “Well, probably. For all I know, you had already started wriggling out of your boots before you called go.”

“I’ll never tell,” Dick says solemnly, stepping over the bits of their uniforms so he can lean in and brush their lips together. “My win, my plan.”

“Is your plan to just see what happens?” Tim teases. His hand drifts to Dick’s side, thumb tracing the thin scar above Dick’s left hip. It’s from a fall when Dick was sixteen; Tim remembers watching through his camera lens as Dick missed his landing after the first frost of the season, slipping off the edge of the store and falling out of view. His heart had thumped so loudly in his chest that he was sure that Batman would hear it, a block and a half away, but Batman had immediately jumped after him. Tim had watched a moment later as Batman helped Robin out of the alley and down the street, blood seeping through the fingers clenched around the very bottom of the tunic. The scar it left behind is old and faded now, but it’s one that Tim didn’t have to ask about, and he’s always been fond of it for that reason.

“My plan,” Dick says, bringing Tim’s attention back to the present, “is to get into bed with you, kiss you everywhere, and then ride you until we’re both out of our minds.”

Tim presses his thumb against Dick’s scar and groans, feeling the slight shiver that goes through Dick’s body at the sound. “That’s a plan I can get into.”

Dick’s grin is sudden and blinding. “That’s the general idea, yeah.”

Tim rolls his eyes and shoves at his shoulder. “Bed,” he says, mock-exasperated. “Before you kill the mood entirely.”

Dick laughs and pulls Tim with him, toppling backwards onto the bed with his hands around Tim’s hips. They both tumble down, catching themselves on autopilot, years of practice showing in how they move together. Tim leans down when they settle, brushing his lips against Dick’s jaw. He feathers kisses down to Dick’s mouth, shivering when Dick’s hand moves up his back and starts toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“This isn’t the plan,” Dick says against Tim’s lips. “Pretty sure I’m the one who was going to kiss you all over the place, not the other way around.”

“Oh, well, sorry,” Tim says, pulling back and sitting on Dick’s thighs. “I’ll just stop. How’s that?”

“Tease,” Dick says affectionately, grabbing Tim’s hand and yanking him back down. Tim yelps and falls, barely catching himself before he crashes into Dick’s chest. Dick laughs and rests his free hand in the small of Tim’s back before tensing, and Tim barely registers what Dick is about to do before he’s on his back, Dick grinning down at him.

Dick leans down and pecks at Tim’s lips, moving to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, then his forehead. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and Tim does it without hesitating. Dick kisses his eyelids, right before left, and trails his fingertips down Tim’s neck and across his collarbone.

Tim shivers, pressing his shoulder up against Dick’s fingers, searching for more contact. Dick’s laugh bounces across the skin of Tim’s chest, and Tim reaches for him blindly. His hand is caught before he’s able to trace Dick’s features, and Tim sighs. “No touching?”

“Not right now,” Dick says, sitting back on Tim’s thighs and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Just a little while?”

“Okay,” Tim replies, tugging his hand back and spreading his fingers against the sheets. “Can I peek?”

“I’ll make it worth your while if you don’t,” Dick says, low and suggestive, and Tim groans and keeps his eyes shut. Dick’s laugh is warm as he kneels up, and it makes Tim shudder beneath him. Dick hums as he shifts, and there’s a muffled popping sound as Dick presses against the mattress. “Have I told you lately that you’re amazing? I feel like I haven’t, and that’s ridiculous. I should tell you that all the time.”

“I’m glad you don’t,” Tim replies, feeling the color creep into his face. “Especially in public.”

“On second thought, you might get used to it, and then I’d have to figure out some other way to make you blush for me,” Dick says thoughtfully. “That might be kind of fun, actually.”

“Something tells me it wouldn’t take you very long to figure something out,” Tim replies, and he doesn’t have to look to see the smile Dick is giving him right now.

“I’ll work on it,” Dick promises. He’s moving, but he’s not touching Tim enough for Tim to figure out what’s going on. “I’ll – ah – let you know what I come up with.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Tim replies. His fingers twitch against the sheets at the sounds that Dick is making, and Tim can feel the fire slowly building in his stomach with the need to touch him. “Dick?”

Dick responds by bending down to kiss Tim again, and Tim doesn’t hesitate to arch up into him. The fire drains away as they kiss, chased out by want. Tim still has his eyes closed when Dick pulls back.

“Hey,” Dick says softly. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, finally opening his eyes when Dick sits back and wraps lube-slick fingers around Tim’s cock. Tim’s mind flashes back to the pop he’d heard earlier; it must have been the lube. “Okay, warning, too much of that and your plan is getting derailed.”

Dick laughs and lets go, kneeling up and walking forward on his knees until he’s straddling Tim’s hips. He reaches behind his body and grabs Tim again, lining himself up and sitting back until he’s teasing them both, rubbing the head of Tim’s dick against his ass. Tim groans, long and low, and Dick hums as he sinks down.

Dimly, Tim realizes that all of the movement while his eyes were closed had been Dick prepping himself. He moans again, hands going to Dick’s hips as Dick bends forward, bracing his hands on either side of Tim’s shoulders. He works his hips up and down, sliding more and more easily with each thrust, until Tim is inside him completely. He leans down even more, and Tim arches up to meet his lips. The fire is mixing with the want in his body now, and Tim rolls his hips slightly as Dick shifts on top of him.

Dick groans into Tim’s mouth. “God, you’re incredible.”

“I think you’re mixing you and me up again,” Tim says, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He mostly doesn’t succeed, and entirely doesn’t mind. “Nine out of ten people would agree that you’re the incredible one.”

Dick grins. “That leaves one person in ten who knows the truth.”

“No, I’m just accounting for you rigging the polls somehow,” Tim replies, rolling his hips and eliciting another low sound from Dick.

“I move to table the rest of this discussion until later,” Dick says, voice breathy as he shifts again. “Objections?”

“Absolute agreement,” Tim says, and then Dick is grinning and kissing him and _moving_ , God, moving slowly enough that it’s almost torture. Tim pushes into him hard and Dick groans, sitting up slightly and rolling his head on his shoulders when he slides down again. He’s always been more expressive than Tim, both verbally and physically, and Tim will never get tired of watching him – especially when he’s responding to what Tim is doing.

“Tim, oh,” Dick gasps, putting his hands on Tim’s shoulders and leaning his weight into Tim. Tim arches beneath him, lifting his hips to meet Dick’s thrust, and Dick whines in his throat. He lifts his hips and slides back down faster, and Tim matches him thrust for thrust.

Tim grabs Dick’s cock and strokes; there’s no rhythm, no rhyme nor reason to it, but Dick is shuddering and rocking, circling his hips when he rests against Tim. Tim moves his other hand to Dick’s shoulder, urging him down a bit more before thrusting up hard. It takes a few thrusts before Dick shouts and clenches, and Tim grins and thrusts up again. Dick pants, letting his eyes slide shut as he hangs his head. Tim thrusts up again and rubs his thumb just under the head of Dick’s cock, and Dick groans and comes.

Tim works him through it, slowing his thrusts down as Dick shudders above him. Tim stills completely when Dick bats at his hand, and it takes a moment for Dick to open his eyes and smile somewhat dazedly down at Tim. Tim smiles back, rubbing at Dick’s shoulder. “You okay in there?”

Dick nods and starts to move again, clenching as he rocks his hips, and Tim gasps. “Dick you don’t have to-”

“Unless you really, really don’t want me to, Tim, then shush,” Dick says, leaning back a little and rocking more quickly. Tim gasps and puts his hands back on Dick’s hips, urging him on, and Dick grins down at him and circles his hips again.

It doesn’t take long; watching Dick come always gets Tim close, and with Dick pouring all of his concentration into making Tim finish, it’s a matter of minutes before Tim is gasping and stilling inside Dick as he comes.

Dick collapses just to Tim’s left, still more on top of him than on the bed, and Tim throws an arm over Dick’s waist and shifts so he can pull out. He spends a few moments just enjoying the afterglow, not particularly looking forward to having to clean up, or the inevitability of Bruce wanting to test their blood in the morning to be sure no trace of the substance remains.

“Stop thinking,” Dick mumbles into the crook of Tim’s neck.

Tim smiles. “Can’t help it.”

Dick snorts, and when Tim looks down, he sees that Dick’s eyes are closed. “Personally, I think that I’m going to write Ivy a thank-you card. That was fantastic.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, stroking at Dick’s skin with his thumb. “It was really good.”

Dick smiles, pushing his face further into Tim’s neck so Tim feels it more than sees it. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Tim responds, smiling back and pressing a kiss to the top of Dick’s head. Dick sighs contentedly, nuzzling at Tim’s neck and wiggling until he finds a spot that’s apparently suitable. He’s out cold in less than three minutes.

Tim knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that he has to get out of bed and at least do a perfunctory cleanup before he goes to sleep. He’d ideally like to change the sheets – the wet spot is nobody’s friend – but with Dick sleeping, that can probably wait until the morning.

He sighs, suddenly exhausted, and rests his head on Dick’s. It won’t hurt anything to just rest for a few minutes before getting up, right?

He’s asleep within seconds.

-0-

The first thing that Tim thinks when he wakes up is that he doesn’t remember a single dream. It’s strange; usually the nights after getting hit with one of Ivy’s concoctions are absolute hell. He shrugs internally and shifts in bed.

“Noooo,” Dick mumbles sleepily. “Five more minutes, Timmy.”

Tim snorts and shimmies out from beneath Dick’s dead weight, tapping him on the back of the head as he slides out of the bed. “We both need a shower more than either of us needs more sleep, Dick.”

“Not true,” Dick says, eyes still closed, as he grabs Tim’s pillow and curls around it. “Ten minutes. That’s all.”

“I’ll get you up when I’m out of the shower,” Tim says, smiling and walking into the bathroom. He hums as he turns the water on, something tuneless, and lets his mind wander as he gets clean. He considers the matter of Ivy’s concoction – he’s never felt this good the morning after a dose, and given that and his dreamless sleep, Tim chalks it up to them being hit with something that’s still in the development stage.

Dick drags himself into the bathroom while Tim is toweling off, and he gives Tim the sad puppy dog look that hasn’t worked on him since he first became Robin. “Shower with me?”

“I’m dry again,” Tim points out. “You had your chance.”

Dick pouts harder, somehow, so Tim leans in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make coffee.”

“Okay,” Dick sighs, turning the water on hot enough to melt metal and stepping in. Tim smiles and goes back to the bedroom, pulling on a set of reasonably well-fitting clothes before folding their discarded suits up and putting them in a bag to take back to Bruce.

Tim heads for the kitchen, going through his morning routine as usual. The coffee is just finishing when Dick’s arms snake around Tim’s waist. Dick leans his head down so he can press a kiss to Tim’s temple. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Tim returns, opening the cabinet in front of him and taking out two travel mugs. “Bruce is expecting us in half an hour.”

Dick takes his mug and nods. “I don’t want to jinx us or anything, but I’m not feeling any of the usual aftereffects.”

“Feeling anything that isn’t usual?” Tim asks, turning to look at Dick.

“Nope,” Dick says, taking a sip of coffee. “Just another beautiful day in the neighborhood.”

“Don’t sing,” Tim warns as Dick opens his mouth again. Dick crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out, and Tim huffs a laugh and grabs his own coffee. “Come on, you can serenade me on the way.”

“This is how I know you love me,” Dick says, throwing an arm around Tim’s shoulders and drawing him close as they walk outside.

The only vehicle stashed at this particular apartment is a clunker that Tim hadn’t even known Dick owned. It starts up on the first try, though, so Tim shrugs and goes with it, listening with half an ear as Dick goes from talking about the car to singing songs that he probably picked up while babysitting Lian to wondering what Alfred is making for lunch. He pulls out his phone, looking at the morning news. There’s no report of anything Poison Ivy-related; Tim can only hope that’s a good thing.

Alfred greets them at the door of the Manor with a warm smile. “Good morning to you both.”

“You, too,” Dick replies, smiling. “Where’s Bruce?”

Alfred rolls his eyes. “I assume you’ll be able to find him with little trouble.”

Tim snorts. “Thanks, Alfred. We’ll be downstairs.”

“I’ve made a stew for lunch,” Alfred says. “It will be ready when you are.”

Tim nods and follows Dick into the study and down the stairs. True to form, Bruce is already hunched over the computer, running an analysis on something that Tim can’t quite see.

“Morning, Dad,” Dick calls, tossing the bag with their suits onto the console. “We brought our laundry home. Can we use the washer?”

Bruce turns around and nods at them. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Tim replies, fishing the blood samples from the case in his pocket. “The suits have some of the compound left on them, and these are blood samples from last night.”

“They’re from right when we got home,” Dick adds. “I’m a little shaky on the time, but I’d say it’s no more than half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes after we got slimed.”

“Slimed,” Bruce echoes, taking the vials from Tim. “I wish I could say that I’ve never been able to describe myself with that word, but we all know I’d be lying.”

Tim snorts. “I can’t be more precise with the timing than Dick was, but it sounds about right to me.”

Bruce nods and shepherds them towards the medical bay, and from there it’s the standard post-Ivy procedure: blood samples, basic antihistamines, recounting of the events. Dick tells Bruce about the night in as much detail as he can; ignoring Tim’s blushing and the way the tips of Bruce’s ears turn a little red.

“I think that’s enough details,” Tim says for at least the third time, and this time Bruce nods in agreement. Dick shuts his mouth with a pout that would probably be termed adorable, if Tim wasn’t so embarrassed about how much he’d spilled to Bruce.

“It’s not like he doesn’t know,” Dick points out when Bruce walks away to begin whatever battery of tests he’s decided to run.

“I’m pretty sure he now knows a lot more than he ever wanted to,” Tim mutters back. “You didn’t have to give him a play-by-play, Dick.”

Dick grins. “Hey, you stopped me before I got to the good part.”

Tim rolls his eyes and hops off of the cot. Dick heads for the changing area while Tim goes for the computers; they’ll be here until Bruce is satisfied that they’re not carrying some sort of horribly contagious disease, so they might as well buckle down and get some work done.

“Hey,” Dick says, shaking Tim’s shoulder. Tim startles and blinks, glancing at Dick. “Alfred called down. Time for lunch.”

Tim turns to look at the clock and sighs. It’s been almost three hours since they’d arrived, and Tim hadn’t even noticed. “Thanks. Suddenly I’m starving.”

“Gotta make sure you don’t skip any meals,” Dick says as Tim stands. “I’ll lose you when you turn sideways if you shed any more weight.”

Tim rolls his eyes at Dick. “Change your shirt before you go upstairs. You’re gross.”

“ _You’re_ gross,” Dick retorts, grinning as Tim snorts. “See if you can drag Grumpy Bear away from the mad science lab. I’ll grab the prybar while I’m changing.”

It doesn’t take much to convince Bruce to take a break while the tests are running, and before long they’re all in the dining room, eating lunch. Dick keeps the conversation going, asking about Bruce’s latest cases and Damian’s schoolwork and everything else under the sun. It’s pleasant; they rarely get the chance to do this anymore, and Tim makes a mental note to try to get back to the Manor more often.

They all head back downstairs after they finish eating. This time Tim heads for the mats with Dick, and they spar for a while. Bruce goes right for the computer, pulling up several screens and typing in another document.

This goes on for nearly an hour, Tim letting the sounds of Bruce working fade into the background until Bruce lets out a drawn out hum and sits back, the squeak of his chair echoing through the Cave. Tim and Dick both stop moving, turning to face Bruce almost simultaneously.

“What did you find?” Dick calls. “Are we going to be strangled by our rapidly-growing hair in our sleep?”

“You watch too many crappy TV movies,” Tim says, grinning, as they walk towards Bruce. “I’d much rather we develop nothing worse than mild flu-like symptoms before dropping dead of a suddenly missing organ.”

Dick laughs. “Gruesome. You win.”

“So,” Tim says, turning back to Bruce. “What’s up?”

“You’re fine,” Bruce says, looking at Tim. “Everything’s reading baseline in your samples.”

“Great,” Tim says. It’s not really a surprise; given his reflections during his morning routine and the fact that nothing new has popped up in the hours since, he had pretty much suspected the outcome. “So we’re-”

“No,” Bruce cuts in. “ _You’re_ fine.”

Tim’s stomach drops as Bruce turns to look at Dick. “I want to run your tests again with a new sample. Something’s reading off, but I have no idea what it is.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It could just be an error with the test.”

Dick is quiet as he nods and heads back towards the medical bay. Bruce doesn’t make mistakes like this and they all know it.

Tim follows, staying back as Bruce draws another blood sample and heads towards the lab without saying anything else. Dick shoots Tim a look, and Tim walks over and sits on the cot next to him, lacing his arm around Dick’s waist.

Dick leans his head down against Tim’s. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “I mean, we both got hit with it. If I’m fine, then there was probably just some dirt or something in the test tube.”

“I _did_ get more of it on me than you did,” Dick says quietly. “Maybe it’s an exposure thing.”

Tim shakes his head. “I think we were exposed equally. Whatever got us was airborne – probably from the same jar as the slime, but airborne nonetheless. It didn’t touch skin.”

Dick tilts his head and frowns. “You’re right. The closest it got was probably your gauntlets.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, squeezing his arm around Dick’s waist. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

They sit together for a while as Bruce works, talking about another case to get their minds off of things. Damian bounds down the stairs when he gets home from school, slowing when he notices that Tim is in the room; they’ve moved past a lot of their animosity, but old habits die hard. Tim stays resolutely pressed to Dick’s side.

“Hey, little D,” Dick says, his smile lighting his face before falling. “Stay on that side of the Cave. We’re not sure what I caught.”

Damian’s eyes flick to Tim. “And yet you’re sure that Drake is immune?”

“I was exposed at the same time,” Tim says evenly. “I tested clean. Dick didn’t.”

“Ah,” Damian says, turning to Dick. “Was it Isley? What sort of mutant virus has she created this time?”

Dick shrugs. “She’s got a new flavor of goop for every day of the week. We have no idea what it is.”

Damian cautiously creeps closer. “What are your symptoms?”

“I don’t have any,” Dick replies. “My blood work came back weird, that’s all.”

Damian’s shoulders lose their tension. “Then it was probably just an error in-”

“It wasn’t,” Bruce says, appearing pretty much out of nowhere, two printouts in hand. He looks cautious more than anything. Tim isn’t sure what to make of that.

Dick tries to smile and gets to ‘grimace’ before giving up. “What’s the verdict?”

Bruce hesitates before shaking his head. “We need to talk to Ivy before I can say for sure.”

“Give me a guess,” Dick says. “Give me a rating, one to ten, how screwed am I?”

The tips of Bruce’s ears burn red again, and Tim glances at Dick and sees the same baffled expression on his face that he feels on his own. “Ah,” Bruce says. “Given your account of last night, I’d say quite.”

“Account?” Damian pipes up. “What-”

“No,” Dick says immediately, narrowing his eyes at Bruce. “Spit it out. Best guess.”

“If what I’m reading is right,” Bruce says, “then you’re going to be fine by this time next year.”

“Next year,” Dick repeats. “How the hell can you tell that from a blood test?”

Bruce heaves a sigh and hands Dick the papers he’s been holding. “Because, according to the results, you’re pregnant.”

There’s a moment of dead silence while Dick reads the papers before calmly passing them to Tim. There’s a graph showing Dick’s baseline overlaid with the sample from this morning, and there’s a clear spike for a marker that had previously read as zero. The paragraph below labels it as a foreign/familiar marker, and further identifies it as hCG – foreign in Dick’s bloodstream, yes, but a marker that the computer was able to identify based on other samples.

The second paper is a detailed analysis of the slime from their suits. Tim’s eyes run over it, picking out compounds that he’s familiar with before reading the paragraph at the bottom. According to the computer’s analysis, it’s an aggressively potent fertility treatment.

Tim reads both sheets a few times before looking up. “This is not possible.”

“We need to talk to Ivy,” Dick cuts in, echoing Bruce. “Preferably soon. Preferably now, in fact.” He’s sliding off of the cot as he speaks, heading back for the changing area. Tim follows him mutely, still clutching the papers in his hands.

“Dick,” he says shakily as Dick pulls a clean uniform from one of the lockers. Dick turns, black and blue material in his hands, and gives Tim the least convincing smile that Tim has ever seen from him.

“I need you to calm down, Tim,” Dick says. “Deep breaths, in and out. You know how to do this. Put it aside for now, okay?”

Tim nods, letting his eyes slip half-closed as he inhales, counts, and exhales again. He opens his eyes once his heartbeat is under control, finding Dick almost completely changed. Dick flashes him a much more convincing grin this time.

“Get changed,” Dick says. “We’ve got a date with a creepy plant lady, and you’re not dressed for it.”

Tim rolls his eyes because it’s what Dick expects, and sure enough, Dick’s grin ratchets up another notch as he claps Tim on the shoulder and heads for the computers. Tim sighs and sets the papers on the shelf in his locker, reaching for his own uniform and beginning the process of getting into the suit.

“Drake.”

Tim turns, half in his leggings, and finds Damian frowning at him, arms crossed over his chest. At thirteen, he’s always taller and broader than Tim expects to find him, and it’s with a jolt that Tim realizes that Damian won’t be smaller than he is for long. Tim sighs and continues dressing. “Yes?”

“Explain to me how Grayson could possibly be-” Damian drops his hands to his sides before making a vague gesture in the air that Tim supposes means _pregnant_.

“Ah,” Tim says, feeling himself blush uncomfortably. “Well, you know that he and I are. Ah.”

“As I understand it, that doesn’t matter,” Damian snaps, and Tim is at least a little gratified to see that Damian’s cheeks are blazing red, too. “This isn’t possible.”

It sounds more like a question than a statement, and Tim really doesn’t have an answer that isn’t complete agreement, other than the papers that Bruce had handed him earlier. He pulls them out of his locker and beckons Damian over, pointing to the graph. “The black line is Dick’s baseline readings, and the blue is his readings today. This spike,” he says, tracing the line, “is a marker for a thing called hCG - human chorionic gonadotropin. In women, it’s a marker for pregnancy. In men, it’s associated with cancer.” Tim hurries on at Damian’s shocked look, switching to the other paper. “This, though – this is the stuff we got hit with. It’s a fertility drug. It would help the user get pregnant, so…”

Damian studies the sheets intently. “So after an incident with one of Isley’s compounds, you and Grayson…” His voice trails off, and he clears his throat. “And now he is producing this marker.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Tim agrees, surprised by how quickly Damian was able to grasp the whole thing. Then again, he’s Robin and this is Gotham; he’s used to strange by now. “We’re going to talk to Ivy to see if we can figure out what the hell is going on.”

Damian nods. “I’ll expect a full report,” he says shortly, spinning on his heel and walking away.

Tim snorts. He may be maturing, but at his core, Damian is still… Damian. It’s almost refreshing at the moment.

“Ready?” Dick asks, popping his head back into the changing area. Tim nods as he pulls his gauntlets from the locker, tugging them on as he follows Dick into the garage. They slip into one of the older-model Batmobiles and begin the drive to Ivy’s den.

“Dick,” Tim says, turning in his seat so he can watch his partner. “What are we going to do?”

Dick doesn’t so much as glance over. “We’re going to get answers,” he says firmly, more like he’s trying to convince himself than anything else. “And then we’ll figure it out from there.”

“Right,” Tim says. “And if you’re, ah, actually, honest to God carrying a child?”

This time Dick looks over at Tim. “I have no idea. I’m sitting here wondering if I should try to wrap my brain around that possibility, or if I should just shove it into a box and ignore it until after we talk to Ivy.” He takes a breath and lets it out on a sigh. “What about you? Any interest in the whole parent thing?”

This isn’t a discussion that they’ve had before. Tim didn’t really think it would come up; their lives aren’t exactly conducive to child-rearing, and he had counted accidental pregnancy out from the start.

 _This_ , Tim reflects, is just like his life.

“I don’t know,” he says after a moment, looking down at his hands. “I never thought I’d have kids. I have no idea how to be a good parent, and the thought of raising a kid the way I was raised…”

Tim startles when Dick reaches over to squeeze his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Tim, I think you’d be a great dad.”

Tim swallows. “You would, too. Everyone thinks so.”

Neither of them speaks for the rest of the drive. Tim does his best not to think, either, because he has no idea what he’s supposed to be thinking about.

“Hey,” Dick says, and Tim blinks, recognizing the alley outside the apartment that he and Dick had been in last night. “Ready to get some answers?”

“Beyond ready,” Tim says grimly, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for the handle. He’s stopped by Dick’s hand on his shoulder, and he looks back over his shoulder to see Dick giving him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be fine,” Dick says, leaning across the console to peck Tim on the lips. He climbs out of the car before Tim can reply.

-0-

It almost seems like Ivy is expecting them. They don’t have to fight their way into the lair; they just walk to the entrance and make their way in, following the same path that they’d taken last night. When they get to the office, Ivy is sitting in the desk chair, facing the doorway.

“Gentlemen,” Ivy says, nodding. “It was you who were here last night?”

“It was,” Dick confirms. “What was in the container that broke?”

Ivy tilts her head to the side. “I’ll have my answers first, Nightwing. Why were you here?”

Dick crosses his arms over his chest, but Tim reaches out and puts a hand on his elbow before looking at Ivy. “You already know that, Ivy. We keep an eye on anyone who should be in Arkham but somehow isn’t.”

Ivy nods and plucks a pot from the desk, holding it out. “I found these. Are there more?”

Tim looks into the pot, unsurprised to find a mess of wires and bugs. A quick count tells him that there’s one left, but there’s no way he can tell which it is from here. There’s also the question of whether or not he should tell her, but a moment of thought makes him realize that it’s unlikely that she’ll stick around here for long, since it’s been compromised. He shrugs. “You missed one.”

“Only one?” Ivy says, pulling the pot back and smirking. “I must be getting better.”

“Or we had to leave before we finished,” Dick shoots back. “You have your answers. We’d like ours.”

Ivy sets the pot down and looks at Dick. “I suppose you’re the one it touched first, then,” she says. “Otherwise, Red Robin would be the one with the urgent need to know.”

Tim narrows his eyes beneath the cowl. Ivy clearly knows what’s going on, or at least has an idea. “Ivy. Details.”

“It’s a compound that I created to aid in fertility,” she says, turning back to Tim. “I assume you can work out why.”

“You can’t have children,” Tim says slowly. “Years of doing whatever it is that you’ve done to yourself have made it impossible.” He’s not guessing; one of the less scrupulous doctors at Arkham had evaluated Ivy without her consent years ago, and the notes are in her file. In all likelihood, Tim has known about Ivy’s inability to conceive for longer than she has. “You… want to have a baby?”

Ivy’s smile is strange, and it takes Tim a moment to realize it’s because it looks gentle instead of terrifying. “I want to be a mother, Red Robin. Is that so strange a thought?”

“Kind of,” Dick comments. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of mothering instincts, but all the times you tried to murder us when we were kids kind of gives me a bad feeling about all of this.”

Ivy’s smile sharpens fractionally. “I’d say that I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, but somehow I don’t think it would convince you that I’m being truthful.”

“So you made that compound to help you get pregnant,” Tim says, trying to draw the conversation back on track. “We were in here last night and accidentally came into contact with it. Well, more accurately, the fumes.” His face colors faintly. “I’m sure I don’t need to explain what happened next.”

Ivy’s smile returns, but this time it’s the sharp grin that Tim is used to. “Indeed not.”

“And now my blood work is coming back funny,” Dick finishes. “As in, apparently I’m pregnant.”

This time Ivy blinks slowly, look from Tim to Dick and back again. “Well, that’s unexpected, but certainly not out of the question.” She turns to look through the papers on her desk, pulling one out and grabbing a pen to make a note. “You’re certain?”

Dick throws his hands up. “How can I be certain? Believe me, Ivy, I’ve got a man’s body under all the Kevlar. It’s not like I can compare my results to anyone else’s.”

She sets the pen down and taps at her chin as if she hadn’t heard Dick’s outburst. “I suppose congratulations are in order, then.”

“So he’s actually pregnant,” Tim says, feeling faint. “He’s going to have a baby.”

“He’s pregnant, though I suppose it’s up to him and his partner as to whether there will be a baby.” Ivy shifts so she’s facing Tim again. “Given the circumstances, I assume that the partner in question is you, Red Robin.”

Tim shoots a glance at Dick, who suddenly looks like he’s lost his will to fight. Tim swallows and turns back to Ivy. “What is this going to do to him?”

Ivy shrugs. “Frankly, I have no idea. The compound was meant to allow me to bear a child the way I would have had I led a normal life.” Her voice is even. “It’s spelled, somewhat, for extra efficiency. I assume that’s what led to your current circumstances.”

“Great,” Dick mutters. “Magic.”

Ivy stares at Dick for a long moment before plucking something else off of her desk and tossing it at him. Dick catches it reflexively, staring at the vial in his hand.

“It will make you sick,” she says. “Sick enough to lose the child, if that’s what you choose, but not sick enough to cause you permanent harm.”

“Why?” Tim blurts. He swears mentally as Ivy and Dick both turn to look at him. “I mean, there are several answers that I’d like to have, but first on the list is why you’re acting helpful.”

“Believe me or don’t,” Ivy says, “but I’ve always had a soft spot for children. I’d never cause one to be born where it wasn’t wanted; there are too many children in that situation as it is, and it benefits no one.”

Dick shakes his head. “And why do you want one of your own?”

“Do you honestly find it so odd,” she asks, “that I would want to nurture a child? I’ve spent so much time giving love to my plants, bringing them into the world and raising them. Why should it be so difficult to believe that I would want a child of my own?”

“Ivy,” Tim starts.

“Pamela,” Ivy corrects, eyes sharpening as she looks at Tim. “My name is Pamela.”

There’s silence after the pronouncement, and she gives a tiny smile. “I don’t want to be who I was,” she continues. “I want to bear a child and to raise that child. I know that you’d never allow it, were I to keep doing what I’ve done these past few years.”

“So we’re supposed to believe that you’re giving up your plants-are-the-best shtick because you want a kid?” Dick’s voice is incredulous, and Tim can’t blame him. “You’ve been at this since I was a kid, Ivy. _Pamela_. Nobody is just going to believe you when you say you’re done.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she replies. “There are ways to fight for my beliefs without being quite so literal about it. I was good at that, once upon a time.”

“I’m hearing it, but I can’t quite believe it,” Tim mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let me just sum this up: you wanted to get pregnant, but instead Nightwing did. Am I correct?”

“It would appear so,” Ivy agrees.

“He’s going to have a baby.”

She shrugs. “That is his choice.”

“And you’re giving up the whole…” Tim trails off, waving his hand in the air. He remembers Damian doing the same thing an hour ago in the Cave as he struggles to explain himself. “You’re trying to become a civilian again.”

“I have been taking the medication that was prescribed to me in Arkham,” Ivy replies. Tim shoots Dick a glance. He’s staring at Ivy, surprise evident on his face. “I’m willing to give you a blood sample to prove it.”

Dick takes a step forward. “We’ll take you up on that.”

“I figured you would,” she replies, rolling up her sleeve. She offers her arm to Dick, looking up at him steadily. “I thought about drawing a sample myself so we could avoid this, but realized that you’d never trust it if you didn’t draw it yourself.”

Tim steps in front of Dick and takes Ivy’s wrist in his hand, pulling a syringe and a sterile wipe from a pocket in his belt. He works quickly and quietly to draw a sample, taping a bandage over the area when he’s finished.

“We’ll be back,” he says when he’s done, straightening and tucking the vial back into his belt. “Be somewhere that’s easy to find.”

Ivy spreads her hands. “I’m not planning on moving.”

Dick opens his mouth and shuts it again before shaking his head and walking out of the room. Tim nods at Ivy and follows. Neither man speaks until they’re safely back in the Batmobile and driving back towards the Manor.

“What the hell,” Dick says, panic edging into his voice. “I mean, seriously, what the hell.”

“Bruce was right,” Tim says. “I don’t know whether to be more freaked out by the results or unsurprised that he figured it out.”

“Tim,” Dick says, the panic clearly setting in more fully. “Tim, what the hell.”

When Tim looks over, Dick is gripping the steering wheel tightly in his hands. He glances at Tim every few seconds, eyes wide behind his mask.

“Pull over,” Tim says. When Dick turns to look at him, Tim jerks his head towards the side of the road. “Come on, Dick. Pull the car over.”

As soon as Dick puts the car into park Tim unbuckles his belt and climbs over the console, pulling Dick away from the seat and wrapping his arms around Dick’s frame. Dick trembles against him, letting his head fall to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim tugs one of his gauntlets off so he can run his fingers through Dick’s hair.

“Breathe,” Tim murmurs, low and quiet, mirroring Dick from earlier. “In and out. Breathe with me.”

Dick inhales raggedly, fisting Tim’s cape in his hands. His eyelashes flutter against Tim’s neck as he works to get his breathing under control, and after a few minutes of silence, Tim feels Dick’s lips brush against his shoulder.

“I’m freaking out,” Dick states.

“I think you’re allowed, given the circumstances,” Tim offers. “If anything is freakout-worthy, it’s probably this whole situation.”

“How are you _not_ freaking out?” Dick asks, leaning back and looking up at Tim. “I mean, you’re pretty much always Mr. Cool and Collected when we’re facing down the really weird stuff, but this… it’s a whole new level of bizarre.”

“It is,” Tim agrees, knocking his forehead against Dick’s. “I’m trying to keep the total amount of freaking out in the car to a minimum, though, and you’re using up the quota at the moment.” He flashes half a grin at Dick. “I’ll have my turn later.”

Dick laughs quietly, ducking back in to press a quick kiss to Tim’s lips. “You’ve got the best plans.”

“Sometimes I have the worst plans,” Tim counters. “If I’d had a better plan for planting the bugs last night, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

Dick sighs. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, and Tim isn’t sure which one of them he’s trying to convince. “You and me, Timmy. We’ll make things work.”

Tim nods. They’ll deal with this whole thing, he knows, but for now he’s got a few questions that he can answer with just a little more information. “Mind if we make a stop on the way back to the Manor?”

Dick drives them to the satellite Cave where the footage from Ivy’s was being recorded. There isn’t much to download; the bugs were in place for less than twelve hours total, and Tim is pretty sure that there won’t be anything incriminating on them. Ivy wouldn’t do anything in a place that had been so noticeably compromised.

Also, if she’s telling the truth about cleaning up her act, there wouldn’t be anything for her to hide.

“What are you looking for?” Dick asks, draping his arms over Tim’s shoulders and looking at the screen. Tim cycles through the feeds until the one from the last camera he’d mounted is showing on the screen. He taps the monitor.

“Something made a noise,” he says. “It sounded like it was directly behind me, so if we back this feed up to the start, we should be able to see whatever it was over my shoulder.”

Tim rewinds the footage, and they watch as the feed starts up again. It powers up, focusing on the left side of Tim’s face. They watch in silence as the Tim on the screen fiddles with the camera before speaking over his shoulder. _“Done. Let me just make sure everything is working like it should.”_

There’s some shuffling before Dick’s voice replies. _“Take as long as you need. I choose to view this as free cuddle time.”_

“You are impossible,” Tim mutters to Dick as they watch. “Completely and honestly impossible.”

Dick’s only reply is to press a smacking kiss against Tim’s temple as they watch on-screen Tim sweep the room with his lenses. He nods slightly and taps at the toggle button, looking down at Dick. _“We’re good to go.”_

The noise is clear through the speakers, a clattering sound as if something metal has been shoved off of a table. On-screen Tim jerks and wobbles a moment before falling backwards, collapsing out of sight of the camera.

Dick frowns. “Did you see anything?”

“No, but I have another angle,” Tim replies, already switching screens. “Here, I’m not in the way of this one.”

They watch the new footage, and Tim is less surprised than he probably should be when they find nothing for a second time. The third angle shows a shift in the shadows, though, and Tim freezes the video and brings up another program, leaning forward. Dick’s arms slip off of his shoulders as he works.

“Video filter,” he explains, entering the timestamps and starting the program. “This should scrub out a lot of the pixellation in the footage.”

“How long will it take?” Dick asks. Tim turns to look at him. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and he’s frowning slightly at the screen.

“Twenty minutes or so,” Tim estimates. He glances around, but there really isn’t anywhere else for Dick to sit, so he stands and jerks his head at the chair. “We should probably do some talking before we let Bruce know what’s going on.”

Dick sits down and tugs until Tim balances on his legs. He wraps his arms around Tim’s waist and sighs, resting his forehead on Tim’s shoulder. “So.”

“So,” Tim says evenly.

They’re both silent for a minute before Dick lets out a breath and sits up straight. “I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby.”

“The first doesn’t have to mean the second,” Tim says instantly. “There are options.”

Dick’s arms tighten briefly around Tim’s waist, more telling than any words could be. “I guess,” he says after a moment.

“You’ve already decided,” Tim sighs. “Haven’t you?”

“Not necessarily,” Dick protests. “I just…”

“You just what?” Tim asks when it becomes clear that Dick isn’t planning on finishing his thought.

Dick shrugs. “I always thought I’d have kids, you know? My parents were so amazing, and I can remember curling up with them at night, thinking about how some day I’d be as awesome a parent as they were.” He sighs. “It’s not like I spend a lot of time daydreaming about a million Grayson-Drake babies running around the Manor, but I never really stopped thinking about it.”

“I see,” Tim replies before falling silent.

Dick nudges him after a few minutes. “I’m baring my soul here, Tim. A little feedback would be nice.”

“You know I haven’t had the same dreams,” Tim says tightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly glad that your childhood was different than mine, but that fact means that you really don’t know what I’m talking about when I say that I have _no idea_ how to be a parent.”

“You’d be a great dad,” Dick protests, but Tim cuts him off.

“I don’t know _how_ ,” he stresses. “My parents weren’t the kind of people we stop, the ones who hit their kids or starve them or do even worse, but that doesn’t mean they were people I want to emulate.”

Dick looks straight at Tim. “You’re selling yourself short if you think you wouldn’t be able to love your child, Tim. Your capacity for caring about people-”

“Dick,” Tim cuts in again. “I love you. You know this, just like you know how long it took me to figure that out, to admit it to myself, and then to admit it to you.” He waits until Dick nods before going on. “You also know that even though I’m getting better at it, I’m one of the worst people in Gotham at showing it most of the time.”

“Bruce,” Dick says immediately.

Tim waves a hand. “Bruce has his ways of letting us know he cares about us, and it’s not like he’s dating someone who wouldn’t get what he’s trying to say when he makes them a new grapple gun.” Dick grins briefly. “On the other hand, I routinely forget we have plans. I spend more time working in a week than most people do in two. If you didn’t remind me to eat I would have withered away in my computer chair by now.”

“Your point?”

“How am I supposed to take care of another person?” Tim asks. “I’m awful at this, Dick. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because I have no idea what I’m doing, least of all a child.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” Dick points out. “The only kid I’ve been around recently is Lian, and other than babysitting for a few hours here and there, I don’t have a clue.”

“That doesn’t seem to worry you,” Tim points out.

Dick sighs. “Of course I’m worried, Tim. What if carrying the baby means I’ll never recover from it, and might have to quit? What if the way the baby was conceived means that it has health issues? Or, on the other side of the freaking out spectrum, what if the baby and I are both fine, but one of us gets hurt or killed doing the job, or what if one of the criminals somehow figures us out and something happens to the kid because of that, or-”

“Breathe,” Tim instructs, bringing his hand to the back of Dick’s neck and squeezing.

“Yeah,” Dick mumbles, dropping his head to Tim’s shoulder again. “I’m worried. I’m freaking out about things that probably wouldn’t even happen, and if they did, wouldn’t happen for a long time. But I still think that it would be worth it.”

Tim is quiet for a moment before he replies. “I see where you’re coming from, and yeah, those are all things that freak me out too. It’s just that on top of all of that, I’m wondering what happens if I can’t actually be a good parent. No,” he says when Dick looks like he’s going to protest. “Your faith in me is, as always, appreciated, but there is every possibility that I’ll be just like my parents, and if that’s the case...”

“You really don’t want to do this,” Dick says softly.

“I don’t know if I’m able to,” Tim mutters, closing his eyes and bowing his head. “I – look, Dick, this is your choice. It’s your body, and if you want to keep the baby, that’s – I’ll support your decision. I just don’t know how much help I can be.”

They sit in silence until the computer beeps at them.

-0-

“So, Bruce,” Dick says when they climb out of the Batmobile, “do you want to be Grandpa? Gramps? Grampy? In case you’re wondering, ‘Grandfather’ is way too formal, and is thus out of the question.”

Bruce turns in his seat to look at them. “You’re actually pregnant.”

“Were you honestly hoping it was cancer?” Damian asks, tilting his head at his father. “This is easier to take care of, and won’t run the risk of long-term effects.”

Tim can almost feel Dick narrowing his eyes. “We haven’t made a decision about the situation yet, Damian. I might keep it.”

Damian’s eyes go wide. “You _what_?”

“Is that safe?” Bruce cuts in, frowning. “Did Ivy give you any insight as to what’s going on?”

“Sort of,” Tim replies. “Your analysis was right; the stuff we got splashed with is a fertility drug. She’s trying to have a baby.”

“She’s what,” Bruce says flatly. It’s more a demand for information than a question.

Tim shrugs. “She swears she’s starting over. She wants a kid, asked us to call her Pamela, told us she’s been taking the meds that they gave her in Arkham to bleed the green out of her.” He fishes the vial from his bandoliers and tosses it to Bruce. “And she offered to let us take a sample of her blood.”

Bruce doesn’t reply for a long moment as he holds the vial up towards the light and looks at it. For all of Ivy’s obvious physical changes over the years, her blood has never been anything but red, so Tim is unsurprised when Bruce lowers the vial and nods. “I’ll test it.”

“There’s more,” Tim says. “We stopped at the satellite location on the way back here and found out what caused this whole thing in the first place.” He hands the printouts to Bruce, who looks down as Tim continues to talk. “One of her plant creatures died, and it knocked into something in the background as we were finishing up.”

Tim can see the moment the significance clicks in Bruce’s mind. “She’s pulling away from the plants,” he says. “Severing the connection.”

“That’s what we figured,” Tim replies, nodding at Dick. “It fits, if she’s telling the truth.”

Bruce takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he looks back at the printouts. After a moment, he nods again.

“That’s it?” Damian asks as Bruce turns away. “Your curiosity about Isley is such that you have nothing more to say on the subject of the child?”

Bruce turns back to Damian. “It’s not my decision to make, and neither is it yours,” he says. It isn’t quite the Bat voice, but it definitely carries that tone of authority. “If Dick and Tim want your input, Damian, you are certainly free to give it, but for now, you need to come with me so we can work on this sample.”

“You hardly need me for that,” Damian protests, but he follows Bruce anyway. “Your skills in the area-”

“-need to be passed on,” Bruce says. Damian huffs but doesn’t say anything else, and Bruce tosses Tim and Dick a glance as he and Damian step into the lab area.

Tim feels his shoulders drop as he turns to Dick. “So.”

“Let’s change,” Dick suggests. “I think this is a conversation that we should have out of costume.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, and that’s the last thing either of them says until they’re both in worn jeans and tees.

“Upstairs?” Dick asks. Tim can tell that he’s stalling, but it’s not like he knows what to say either, so he nods and follows Dick out of the Cave. Dick takes his hand when they’re halfway up the stairs, and Tim is positive that he can’t be faulted for how tightly he clings.

They stop in the kitchen for something to drink – hot chocolate for Dick, a mug of coffee for Tim – and make their way into the living room. Tim sits on the sofa, all the way to the left, and is surprised when Dick chooses the loveseat instead of his customary sprawl all over the rest of the sofa and Tim’s lap.

Dick smiles the tiniest bit when Tim cocks his head. “It’s harder for you to distract me if I can’t touch you.”

Tim smiles back as well as he can, which probably isn’t much more convincing an effort than Dick’s own expression. “Ditto, I guess.” He shifts, curling his fingers around his mug. “So.”

Dick sighs and looks down into his cocoa as if the marshmallows are going to present a solution. “I’m not going to force you into this, Tim.”

“I don’t – wait, what?”

Dick looks up, that same strained smile on his face. “If you honestly, really, truly don’t want to do this, then I’ll take what Ivy gave me. Get rid of the – get rid of it.”

Tim feels something twist in his stomach. “Dick, if this is something that you want, then you should do it for yourself. Don’t let me make your decisions for you.”

“Pot, kettle,” Dick says. “If this _isn’t_ something that _you_ want, then I’m not making the decision to go against that and force it on you.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Tim snorts. “We are the worst at this.”

Dick’s smile trembles before he breaks into laughter. Tim can’t help but join him, and soon they’re both laughing helplessly, Dick sprawled across the loveseat and Tim resting his head against the back of the sofa as they laugh and laugh.

“Okay, I changed my mind,” Dick says when they’ve calmed down a bit. “I want to sit with you, not all the way over here.”

Tim nods and shifts, and before he settles back against the sofa Dick is beside him. He leans in and rests his head on Tim’s, and Tim can feel them both relax a little.

“Let’s start this again,” Dick murmurs. “I love you, and this isn’t going to change that, no matter what ends up happening.”

“I love you, too,” Tim replies instantly. “I don’t plan on stopping that anytime soon.”

“Good,” Dick says. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s do this like adults. I’ll say my piece, and then you say yours, and then we talk about it.”

“How pragmatic of you,” Tim teases, but he’s smiling and it doesn’t feel forced. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Dick takes a deep breath and nods. “I already said I never stopped thinking about having kids,” he starts. “Obviously it’s not something I thought we were going to do naturally, but it’s something that I had planned to talk to you about when things settled down a little.”

Tim snorts; he can’t help it. Things don’t really _settle down_ for them. Dick rolls his eyes and goes on. “So yeah, the idea of having a kid with you, an actual child who is biologically yours and mine, that makes me happy. It feels like the universe is finally giving us something in return for what we try to do for it.”

Tim opens his mouth, but Dick reaches over and claps his hand over it before Tim can get a word out. “My turn, so shush,” he says. Tim huffs through his nose and nods, and Dick smiles as he pulls his hand away. “Almost done. Promise.”

“I’m still listening,” Tim says. “Go ahead.”

“All of that said,” Dick goes on, “I get that it’s not something that was really on your plate. You’re a lot younger than me – don’t argue, it’s true – and I’m not bringing that up because I’ve got an issue with it. We’ve already talked that one out.”

Tim nods, they have, at length. They’ve both mostly made their peace with the eight-year age gap, but sometimes it rears up and slaps them.

“Anyway, it’s relevant here,” Dick says. “You’re twenty. If you weren’t doing the Bat thing, you’d be in college like any other businessman’s kid, taking exams and sneaking alcohol at parties and doing whatever normal people your age do, which isn’t generally considering having kids. Not that it doesn’t happen, but I’m willing to bet it wouldn’t have happened to you,” He smiles and taps their heads together gently. “On the other hand, I’m almost thirty. Biological clock and all that.”

Tim snorts again and waits, but Dick doesn’t say anything else. “My turn?”

“Your turn,” Dick confirms.

“Okay,” Tim says. He falls into silence, and Dick pokes him after a minute or so. “Hold on. I’m thinking.”

“Not everything has to be worded perfectly,” Dick says. It’s another conversation they’ve had before, how Dick wants his words and his thoughts before they’ve been polished and refined, but this is important in ways that his opinions on movie or Killer Croc’s wardrobe choices can’t hope to compare with.

Tim nods and takes a breath. “Okay,” he repeats. “All of the role models I’ve had for parenting have been terrible at it. My parents loved me, sure, but they had no idea how to show it, and I spent the first eight years of my life trying to do everything they wanted so I could get their approval, and the twelve years since telling myself that it’s okay to do what I want to do, that getting their approval for everything isn’t the end-all of what I should get out of life.”

“Tim,” Dick says softly, but Tim goes on.

“It’s okay, I’m good, that’s not the point,” he says. “The point is that other than my parents, my experience with parenting was with Steph, when she had her baby.” This part is harder to talk about in ways he wasn’t really expecting, so he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before going on. “She and I – it wasn’t my kid, you know that, but I was with her pretty much the whole time she was pregnant, and by the time she had the baby, it felt like it was.”

“I know,” Dick murmurs.

“And then I held her,” Tim goes on. “Steph doesn’t even know it was a girl, but I held her for a few minutes before the DYFS people came and took her away. And I thought, just for a few minutes, that Steph and I could do it.” He goes quiet for a moment before sighing. “There’s no way, though. I’ve known it pretty much since then: I don’t have the first clue what I’d do as a parent. If I don’t know what I’m doing, how could I possibly not screw up a kid?”

Dick chuckles softly and turns to press a kiss against the side of Tim’s head. “Done?”

Tim shrugs. “For now.”

“Okay, good,” Dick says. “First thing: I don’t have any idea how to be a parent, either. No,” he says when Tim opens his mouth, “I don’t. I’ve never done it before, and it’s been a long time since my parents were around. And I had Bruce, sure, but.” He shrugs. “I’d be making it up as I went along, too.”

“You’re good at people things,” Tim says. “Everyone loves you, regardless of whether they know you as Nightwing or as Bruce Wayne’s son or just as you. Lian loved you when she was a baby, and all she did when I went in the room with her was cry.”

Dick starts laughing. “Tell me you’re not basing your parenting skills on how Lian reacted to you,” he says. “Tim, she cried when _Roy_ walked into the room for two solid weeks. The only people she’d let near her without completely freaking out were me and Kori.”

Tim turns so he can look at Dick. “But Lian loves Roy,” he protests. “She always has. Roy’s a great dad.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, “she loves him because he’s her dad and he loves her right back. It doesn’t mean that Roy had the first clue what he was doing when he got her, though.” He snorts a laugh. “At least you know that diapers need to be changed pretty often, right? And bottles need to be heated up?”

“Well, yeah,” Tim says, startled. “I did take health class in high school.”

“I think Roy opted out of that,” Dick says, really laughing now. “You should have seen him the first week or two. It was a miracle he knew which way was up at first.”

Tim smiles and shakes his head. “Okay, so Roy figured it out on the fly. I get it; example accepted as fact.”

“Oh, good,” Dick says, calming down but still smiling. “My point, Tim, is that not knowing the rules doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go for it anyway. Parenting is something that everyone stumbles through, and most of the time, you make it out just fine.”

Tim sighs and shifts, pushing against Dick until Dick is upright and Tim can curl into his side. “You honestly think I’d be good at this.”

Dick wraps his arm around Tim’s shoulders and squeezes. “I do. I absolutely, one-hundred-percent think you’d be a wonderful dad, Tim. And if we decide that this isn’t the time, well, we can talk about it again when you feel more up to it.”

There’s no note of strain in Dick’s voice, nothing beneath the surface to hint at how it would tear him up inside to get rid of the baby. Tim knows that it would, just as much as he knows that Dick would forgive him if Tim decided that he truly didn’t want to have kids now. It would take some time, yes, but in the end, they’d be okay.

“It’s a lot to think about,” Tim murmurs, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around Dick’s waist. He plays absently with the belt loops of Dick’s jeans. “A kid. A baby. You and me.”

“Yeah,” Dick says softly, toying with Tim’s hair. “Bottom line, Tim, I want us to be happy. If keeping the baby would mean you weren’t happy, then I wouldn’t be happy, either, and that’s no way for a kid to grow up.” He tugs on the short hairs at the nape of Tim’s neck. “We don’t have to decide this today. We have some time to think it through.”

“Yeah,” Tim echoes. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” Dick promises. “We always do.”

Tim hugs him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the ending is somewhat ambiguous. This was done on purpose; make of their decision what you will. :)
> 
> The title is from Buddy Wakefield's poem "In Landscape", [which you can read here](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com/post/42331385813). There are so many parts of the poem that I wanted to use for the title, but they're all rather long; this line seemed to sum up the thought behind it, though, and really the poem and story both. It's about learning to be with another person, and learning how to catch each other and help each other along, and how to love through the trouble. I thought it fitting.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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